Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(19)

“Hello, Mother,” Sera said, striding into the room.

Mother turned and looked at her, the expression on her face one of reproof for being made to wait so long.

“You’re here at last,” Mother said with a toss of her head. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

After all she had gone through that day, Sera had little patience for her mother’s little criticisms. But she swallowed her feelings and joined her at the table.

“I’m afraid the food’s probably cold,” Mother said. “Shall we send for a replacement?”

Sera had no desire to be trapped even longer with her mother. “No, this will be fine. I eat my meals cold constantly.” She raised the silver chafing dish in front of her, and not a whiff of steam came from it. Roasted pheasant covered in some sort of gravy. Another covered dish sat beside it.

“Well, the cooks went through the effort. At least we can enjoy it. Will your servants attend to us?”

“I’d rather not stand on ceremony,” Sera answered. “We don’t keep many servants anymore. The war efforts have depleted our staff considerably.”

“I had no idea,” Mother said. She reached out and served herself, and then, as if Sera were still a child, served her next. The portion was much bigger than she would have chosen for herself, but she didn’t feel obligated to eat it all. Her mother lifted the other silver dish, revealing a tray of roasted vegetables, and heaped some onto each of their plates.

Sera thanked her, and then Becka, who had filled both of their goblets. The other maid had said nary a word.

“Who is your maid?” Sera asked, looking down at her plate. She was ravenously hungry, and the dish smelled pleasant, exotic even. She took one bite, then another.

“She’s new,” Mother said. “I adore her. She’s not very talkative, but she’s a good replacement. The other got married, you know.”

Sera wiped her mouth on her napkin and turned to face the maid. “Welcome. I’m glad you could come,” she said, addressing the young woman with a little nod.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about,” Mother said, using her knife to cut off a piece of meat.

It was coming already. “What is that?”

“We’ve spoken of it before. I think, and I know Lady Florence agrees with me, that as your mother, I deserve a seat on the privy council.”

Sera sighed inwardly. She reached for her goblet to take a drink and noticed her hand was trembling. Perhaps she’d gone too long without food. She clenched her fingers into a fist and tried again, but she trembled so much that some of the contents sloshed onto the tablecloth. What was going on? Why couldn’t she control her arm? A spasm shook her stomach.

Mother was busy pushing food around her plate, oblivious to Sera’s distress. But then her eyes flicked up, and the look of guilt in them struck Sera like a blow. She understood at once that the meal had been poisoned. That her mother had probably done it. There she was, cutting away at her dish . . . not eating a single bite.

Sera tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t work. She felt tremors spread through her entire body. Blackness began to crimp in around her vision.

In fear, she dragged her arm toward her chest. The Tay al-Ard was strapped to her forearm, beneath her gown. She tried digging her fingers into the cuff of her sleeve, but her body’s violent trembling made it impossible.

Then a hand gripped her forearm. A hand belonging to a woman who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Sera instantly recognized the face of her enemy, the woman whom she had lived with under confinement in her youth.

The former lady Corinne of Pavenham Sky.

There was a dagger in Corinne’s other hand, and she slit the sleeve of Sera’s dress open without hesitation, the blade ripping into the skin underneath it with a shock of pain and an effusion of blood. The Tay al-Ard was slick with it.

“Get the maid,” Corinne said to the young woman standing by Mother’s side. Then she yanked the Tay al-Ard from the straps securing it, holding it in her own palm like a treasure. Her eyes glinted with victory.

Oh no. Oh heavens no! Sera thought with dread as the poison made her lose consciousness.





CHAPTER SEVEN

PRISONER



Sera awoke in utter darkness. Her arm was afire with pain, and it took her drugged mind several minutes to piece together her broken memories. Her mother sitting at supper, endlessly cutting into meat that she wouldn’t eat. Lady Corinne’s menacing eyes. A dagger slicing into her forearm.

I didn’t see it coming, Sera thought with despair. She knew—she’d been warned—that Lady Corinne would attack her, but she’d trusted in her guards, in the safety of Lockhaven, in the Mysteries. And now this.

A sickening dread filled her stomach as she tried to sit up. Her head swam, and dizziness engulfed her. She cradled her left arm to her chest, wincing against the pain. She couldn’t move her fingers of that hand, which only added to her terror. After the dizziness subsided, she reached with her other hand to feel around. She was on a cot. There was a scratchy wool blanket beneath her. Her stomach growled with hunger. Sera swallowed, still tasting a bitter residue of the poison she’d ingested.

Carefully, she eased her legs off the cot and felt the hard floor beneath. She touched the fabric of her dress, realizing she still wore the gown she’d had on at dinner. The darkness was not interrupted by even the dimmest light. No windows, then. It was a cell of some kind.